Chapter XVIII. The Lady Charlotte - Page 2

"Yes," I replied, "but Bill is only the very humble instrument, the moving spirit is behind."

"Oh, yes, you mean the little girl that owns the pony," she said. "That's another thing you must tell me about."

"The Duke knows more than I," I replied, shifting the burden to him; "my acquaintance is only of yesterday; his is lifelong."

"Why have you never told me of her?" she demanded, turning to the Duke.

"Haven't I told you of the little Meredith girl? Surely I have," said The Duke, hesitatingly.

"Now, you know quite well you have not, and that means you are deeply interested. Oh, I know you well," she said, severely.

"He is the most secretive man," she went on to me, "shamefully and ungratefully reserved."

The Duke smiled; then said, lazily: "Why, she's just a child. Why should you be interested in her? No one was," he added sadly, "till misfortune distinguished her."

Her eyes grew soft, and her gay manner changed, and she said to The Duke gently: "Tell me of her now."

It was evidently an effort, but he began his story of Gwen from the time he saw her first, years ago, playing in and out of her father's rambling shack, shy and wild as a young fox. As he went on with his tale, his voice dropped into a low, musical tone, and he seemed as if dreaming aloud. Unconsciously he put into the tale much of himself, revealing how great an influence the little child had had upon him, and how empty of love his life had been in this lonely land. Lady Charlotte listened with face intent upon him, and even her bluff husband was conscious that something more than usual was happening. He had never heard The Duke break through his proud reserve before.

But when The Duke told the story of Gwen's awful fall, which he did with great graphic power, a little red spot burned upon the Lady Charlotte's pale cheek, and, as The Duke finished his tale with the words, "It was her last ride," she covered her face with her hands and cried:

"Oh, Duke, it is horrible to think of! But what splendid courage!"

"Great stuff! eh, Duke?" cried the Hon. Fred, kicking a burning log vigorously.

But The Duke made no reply.

"How is she now, Duke?" said Lady Charlotte. The Duke looked up as from a dream. "Bright as the morning," he said. Then, in reply to Lady Charlotte's look of wonder, he added:

"The Pilot did it. Connor will tell you. I don't understand it."

"Nor do I, either. But I can tell you only what I saw and heard," I answered.

"Tell me," said Lady Charlotte very gently.

Then I told her how, one by one, we had failed to help her, and how The Pilot had ridden up that morning through the